


Carry On

by whatdreamsmaycome



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdreamsmaycome/pseuds/whatdreamsmaycome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A/N:  This is based on the song "Carry On" by Fun., and I may have (shamelessly) slipped a few lines (which I do not own and in no way take credit for) into the story.  Big love to Kelsy for both the prompt and the motivation (mostly nonviolent) to actually write this - tanks for getting me into Liam/Louis, boo.  Enjoy .xx</p><p>“And it all makes sense now, really, because of course Louis picks Harry.  Everyone picks Harry.  Who wouldn’t?  Harry’s funnier than Liam, and he’s smarter, and he has those stupid curls and dimples and nipples and that smile that makes you feel like you’re his most favorite person in the world.  Harry is perfect; Liam’s not.  So, really, it shouldn’t be such a surprise that Louis would pick Harry.  It shouldn’t be a surprise at all.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry On

It’s the cold, hard corner of a nightstand leg pressing into his shoulder that first wakes Liam from an undeniably raunchy dream involving Leona Lewis, Rita Ora, himself, and more whipped cream than he’d care to admit, but it’s the finger poking his cheek that refuses to let him fall back asleep.

“Liam.”

“Hnnnggg…?” Liam groans as he swats at the hand hovering above his face, careful to avoid returning to full consciousness. He’s sore and tired and altogether cranky – whoever is bothering him right now had better start running. “Ow.”  He rolls away from the offending nightstand into a puddle of something cold and sticky.   _Please, god, let that be beer._  

“Liam.”

“Unnghh!”

“Liam!” 

A thousand tiny hammers begin to  _chip chip chip_ away at his skull the second Liam gives in and cracks his sleepy brown eyes open.  Bloody hell, how much had he had to drink last night?  With a moan, Liam lets his eyelids fall back into place and tosses an arm across his face to hide from the light.  This is all Louis’ fault – stupid, pushy, blue-eyed Louis, who still refuses to believe that Liam and alcohol are two things that should not ever be mixed. 

“Lee-yum!”

The finger pokes Liam’s arm this time, and Liam barely manages to suppress a growl as he slaps it away. 

“Get up, you wanker!”

“Fuck off!”  Liam manages to prop himself up on an elbow and squints a glare at the curly-haired figure lounging on the bed above him.  Harry fucking Styles is not about to come between Liam and his sleep.  “Get your own room.”

“Drunk Liam,” Harry drawls from his spot on the bed, shaking the curls from his laughing green eyes and waiting for Liam to push himself into a less horizontal position before continuing, “never thought I’d see the day.  This  _is_  my room;  _you’re_  the one who barged in at three last night after getting into a shouting match with the  _door_.”

“Fuck you,” Liam grumbles.  He’s too tired for this shit; he just hopes they were all smart enough to not take videos this time.  Management would have a fit if another “Drunk Direction” disaster went viral again.  Liam yanks his used-to-be-white shirt off and tosses it in a corner of the room – whatever he’d rolled in had most definitely not been beer.   _Fuck_.  “Whose room?”

“Nialler’s; don’t worry, we didn’t lose him this time.  I think he’s still on the couch.” Harry rolls his eyes and flops onto his back as Liam does the same on the floor, careful to avoid the suspicious puddle.  “Passed out ages before you did, the twat. I’m out five quid.”

“Great friend, you are,” Liam snorts, surreptitiously checking his pockets to make sure all the essentials are intact.  “Where’s Zayn?”  Harry gives Liam a pointed stare and Liam’s cheeks redden as he recalls that Little Mix had also been doing some promo work in the same city for once.  “Right.  Perrie.  Stupid question.  What about Lou?”

“Erm…” Harry flushes and glances behind himself almost guiltily before mumbling, “He’s in the bathroom now, but he was in bed with me.”

Liam freezes.  “With you as in…?” 

“As in  _with me,_ yeah.”  A small, happy grin lights up the corners of Harry’s eyes, and Liam’s heart turns to stone.  “It’s kind of why I woke you, actually…could you kip with Niall?  Bit awkward with you here; no offense.”

“Okay.” The word slips between his numb lips of its own accord, and before Liam can blink a stiff smile forces its way onto his face. His head throbs dully to remind Liam that he is going to have to pay for drinking at some point, but it doesn’t hurt. Not yet.  Stone can’t feel headaches.  “Sure.  Good for you, mate.” 

And it all makes sense now, really, because of course Louis picks Harry.  Everyone picks Harry.  Who wouldn’t?  Harry’s funnier than Liam, and he’s smarter, and he has those stupid curls and dimples and nipples and that smile that makes you feel like you’re his most favorite person in the world.  Harry is perfect; Liam’s not.  So, really, it shouldn’t be such a surprise that Louis would pick Harry.  It shouldn’t be a surprise at all.

And so what if Liam knows what kind of socks Louis likes to wear when he’s sick and the places Louis uses to hide away from the world when the fame gets to be too much and what sort of noises Louis makes if you tickle him in just the right spot? What does it matter if Liam notices the way Louis bites his lower lip when he wants to quiet a laugh and the crinkles that appear at the corners of his blue eyes when he’s on the phone with his family and the way Louis’ trousers are always just a little wrinkly from being tossed onto the floor the second the cameras are turned off and the doors are shut because he hates the tight clothes their stylist tells him to wear?  Why would anyone care if Liam has seen all there is to see of Louis, his good side and his bad side and his ugly side and his beautiful side and everything, every sort of side there was to see, and loves him all the more for it?

Louis doesn’t want Liam.  And there’s nothing Liam can do about it.

“Could you grab your shirt?” Harry asks as he glances toward the bathroom door again.  “Lou makes enough of a mess on his own.”

“Yeah.”  Liam doesn’t realize he’s been moving until the sticky shirt materializes in his hands and he nearly collides with the doorframe. A sweet lethargy has taken control of his limbs, and Liam watches his slow movements with disinterest from eyes that aren’t quite his own, as if his life were actually the B-level sitcom it likes to imitate (and what he wouldn’t give to be an audience member right now).

“You’re a great friend, Li.”

Liam’s fingers start to shake as his nails scrabble against the well-scratched wooden door in search of the handle.  Too much.  This is all too much.  Li…that’s Louis’ nickname for him, not Harry’s – Harry can’t have that, too.  “Sure.  You, too.” Liam needs to get out.  More than he needs to breathe, he needs to just… _go._

“Thanks, man,” Harry grins, propping himself up on one elbow as Liam finally finds the doorknob.  Liam stares blankly back at him; stone can’t smile.  “I owe you one.”

“No problem,” Liam mumbles, hating himself as the door clicks shut behind him and shatters his heart.

**********

“Liam.” Louis tugs on the back of Liam’s shirt after another interview about what their life as a band is like and where do they see themselves in five years and all that bullshit (honestly, Liam feels like they’re being paid to be parrots at this point). “Wait up.”  Louis waits until Liam stops and turns around to glare up at him with two big, baleful blue eyes.  “Li, look at me.” 

Liam bites his lower lip and shakes his head as he squints at his feet; he hates how beautiful Louis is, sometimes.  He thinks it might be the eyes, or maybe it’s the person behind the eyes.  It could be the hair, or the clothes, or the smile.  Maybe it’s everything; maybe it’s nothing.  Maybe it’s the way Louis wrinkles his nose whenever anyone mentions carrots, or the way he used to sneak into Liam’s bed all those times he felt homesick at the start of their Up All Night tour.

(“Who the fu…Louis?” Liam grumbled groggily as a figure with brown hair and a frame too petite for either Harry or Zayn tugged his covers back.  He rubbed his eyes with a fist and glanced over at the clock; it was too early to even think about being alive.  “What’re you doing…shit, are you crying?”

A sniffle was his only response as a cold body slipped beneath the blankets.

“Lou, please.” Liam wriggled forward until his wandering fingers touched skin.  “Talk to me.”  He felt his way up Louis’ torso and cupped his best friend’s face with one hand, brushing away the tears that had begun to stream down Louis’ face.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just…” Louis’ voice cracked and his body began to tremble.  “I just miss them, Li.  I miss them so much.  But they don’t miss me, and they’re all…they’re growing up without me; without their brother.  Fizz didn’t…she didn’t even  _recognize_  me when I called earlier.”  Louis hiccupped and did his best to wipe his tears off with the back of a hand.  “She doesn’t remember me…she doesn’t know me…I’m her  _brother_ …I’m supposed to be the one she dresses up and puts make up on and who tells her bedtime stories whenever Mum’s busy.  But I’m not, and now she’ll never have that.  She doesn’t  _know_ me,” Louis whispered miserably.

“Louis…I…god, is there anything I can do?” Liam asked desperately as he pulled Louis forward into a tight, horizontal hug. He wanted to do something, anything, everything to take away the pain Louis was feeling.

“Could we just stay like this?”  Louis’ arm tightened around Liam’s waist.  Liam could feel Louis’ pulse pick up as his heart beat out a melody only Liam’s could understand.  “Just for a little longer?”

“’Course we can.” Liam felt the sting of tears in his own eyes as he pressed a soft kiss to Louis’ forehead.  “Always.  You know that.  I’ll always be here for you.” 

Louis’ arms squeezed him tighter for a moment, and then suddenly there was motion and shuffling and re-shuffling that didn’t cease until Liam found himself spooning with his best friend in a dark hotel room at 4 a.m. on a Thursday night.

And so, somewhere between the puffy eyes, cold coffee, fragile smiles, and inside jokes the next morning, Liam Payne fell in love with Louis Tomlinson.)

All Liam knows is that he’s in love with Louis, and that Louis will never feel the same.

Louis frowns as he watches the lines etched deep into Liam’s face grow a little deeper.  “Fine, you big baby.  Can we talk for a second, at least?”

“Sure,” Liam mumbles.  He scuffs his shoe against the hard black floor as he tries to recall the days where life didn’t hurt quite so much.  “About what?  Paul’s going to throw a fit if he thinks we tried to ditch him again…”

“Well, I just think – oh for fuck’s sake,” Louis hisses, grabbing Liam’s arm and tugging him sideways into a semi-dark, unused room that feels like a supply closet (if the bucket Liam just kicked is any indication). “Will you  _look at me_?”

Liam shrugs as he memorizes the grainy, water-stained pattern in the ceiling tiles.

“Liam,  _please_.  I’m trying to talk to you.  This is important.”

Another shrug.  Liam has a feeling he knows what Louis wants to talk about.

“Christ, can you be mature for one fucking second and do something other than  _shrug at me_?!”

Liam shrugs.

“Fine.” Louis snaps.  There’s a fire burning behind his eyes as he stalks out of the closet and says in a loud, ringing voice, “ _Fine._ Whatever.  I was going to ask you what you thought about me and Harry, but obviously you don’t care.  We’re dating,” Louis snarls, rounding on Liam and shoving his shoulder, “and I wanted you to be the first to know, you fucking asshole, but thanks for fucking that up.”  Louis’ tough façade wavers for a moment and Liam can see genuine hurt pooling behind the angry mask.  “Some best friend you are.”

“Louis, wait, don’t leave like that.” Liam catches Louis’ arm before he can walk away.  “Sorry, I just…I’m sorry.  I’m an asshole, I know.  But that’s really…” The phrase catches in his throat like the smallest and thinnest of razors and Liam swallows before mumbling quickly, “that’s really great about you and Harry.  I’m happy for you.  Can we not fight about this?”

“I don’t know,” Louis replies frostily after a moment, pretending to clean imaginary dirt from under his nails as he arches an eyebrow.  “Although a bit of groveling might help your case.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Tommo.”  Liam smiles and bumps Louis’ shoulder as the coldness melts out of his expression. “C’mon, let’s go home.”  They fall into step and make their way out of the building, through a small thicket of fans that do their best to deafen the boys with their screams, and into the bus where an irate Paul is waiting with crossed arms and a dangerous scowl. 

Liam lets his gaze wander as the bus starts rolling and Paul sits them down for yet another lecture about the dangers of sneaking off.  Zayn’s lounging in his bunk, texting Perrie and reading some comic Liam’s never heard of, Niall’s swearing creatively at their X-Box over some bad call one of the imaginary refs made, and Harry’s looking at Louis as they have a silent conversation about  _how’d Liam take it_ and  _want to get dinner later_ that makes Liam want to bash his head against a wall somewhere.

But then Louis tears his gaze away from Harry and makes a face at Liam behind Paul’s back as he mimics their tour manager’s red-faced expression, and Liam can’t help but mimic right back until Paul turns around and finds a whole new reason to shout at them.

And even though his heart still feels like a lump of rock and Harry’s still very much in the picture and Louis still isn’t his, Liam knows he and Louis will be okay.

Whatever happens, they’ll carry on.

**********

Two weeks pass after Louis’ announcement.  Two long, awkward weeks until one day, for no particular reason at all, Louis and Harry suddenly make the transition into  _LouisandHarry_  and nobody is surprised, not really.  Zayn and Niall just laugh and warn the two that they’d better not mess around on the tour bus, or at least not when anyone else is around to hear, and everybody laughs.  Everybody but Liam, that is, who forces a pained smile and makes up an excuse to duck out of the room as soon as Niall produces a bottle of whiskey from one of his many hidden pockets.  Stone can’t laugh.

People try talking to Liam afterward, (people being Louis and Zayn, mostly), but Liam ignores their calls and texts and tweets asking him how he’s doing.  He has nothing to say.  Sure, he’ll laugh for the cameras and pal around with the boys to keep up their happy-go-lucky, best-friends-forever image, but his smile fades away in time with the spotlight at the end of the day.  So, instead of interacting with people, Liam sleeps, runs, and reads to fill the void where his heart used to be.

Liam loves reading.  He loves the way words can fit and flow together like pieces of a puzzle to create a new world into which Liam can escape from his life for a little while; he can dive between the pages of a book into a place where blue-eyed boys don’t pick the wrong guy and where the nice guy always wins out in the end, where monsters are just figments of your imagination and love trumps everything, end of story.  Liam craves the clear-cut conflict and dragons and towers and evil wizards and the princes who fight them because damn it, he wants to be a prince - not just any prince though:  _the_  prince. Louis’ prince.  And he doesn’t care how old-fashioned and outdated that notion is; Liam just wants to be the hero of his own story for once.  He wants to be strong.

Too bad he’s not – not where Louis is concerned, anyway.

“Lee-yu-u-um,” Louis calls out in a sing-song falsetto as he knocks on the door to Liam’s hotel room.  “I know you’re in there-e-e!”  Liam is so startled that he drops the book he was reading and immediately loses his page.  Typical.  “Let me i-i-in!”

Liam sighs and pushes himself out of the comfortable chair, bending over to grab the book and place it carefully onto the coffee table.  He knew getting the single room would be too good to be true, and he also knows that this is probably a really bad decision but there is no shutting Louis up once he gets going; Liam as well get on with whatever silly scheme he has in mind.

“Lee-e-e-e-yu-u-…well, hello there, you sexy thing,” Louis leers as Liam jerks the door open (because of course Liam got the door that has more issues with opening up than he does).  Louis’ blue eyes travel the length of Liam’s body in such an obvious caress that Liam can’t help but flush and cross his arms, wishing he’d remembered to grab a shirt.  He hadn’t expected company tonight (let alone Louis) so he hadn’t seen the point of putting much on else besides basketball shorts and some old, mismatched socks.  A bad decision, as it turns out.  “Not interrupting something, am I?”

“Would it stop you if you were?” Liam rolls his eyes and heads back inside before he finishes the question.  They both know the answer.  Louis smirks, looking ridiculously pleased with himself, and follows, tripping over the piles of unpacked clothes and books and general paraphernalia that Liam has been too busy to bother with putting away.

Liam drops down onto the couch and watches with narrowed eyes as Louis brings out a wine bottle he had kept hidden behind his back before joining Liam on the sofa, kicking his legs up into Liam’s lap the way he always does when he’s in a good mood.

“Really, Lou?” Liam asks as he raises an eyebrow and nods toward the bottle.  “You really think that’s a good idea tonight? We’ve got promo stuff to do tomorrow.  Signings and all that.  And what about everyone else?  Zayn’s usually up for a laugh, and there’s Niall, and…Harry…”

“Of course it’s a good idea,” Louis grins wickedly.  He leans forward and ruffles Liam’s short brown hair, letting his nails scrape along Liam’s skull the way he knows Liam likes.  “I’ve got you to look after me, haven’t I?  And I don’t want to spend time with everyone else,” he adds softly, tilting his head to one side.  “I want to spend time with  _you_.  You’ve been avoiding me.”  It isn’t a question.  “I’ve missed you.”

Liam’s hands tremble where they rest on Louis’ leg as a piece of stone flakes away from his heart.  “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Louis chuckles, blue eyes dancing as he swats the back of Liam’s head lightly.  “You’re my best friend and I love you, even if you’ve been acting like a right twat lately.”

Liam can only meet Louis’ happy gaze with his own for a few seconds before dropping his eyes down to his hands.  He doesn’t want Lou to see him cry.   _I love you, too._ “Okay.”

~

An hour and a half later finds Liam laying on the couch and pondering the existence of the word “goat” while Louis hums discordant tunes and dances around the room to his own beat.

“ _And all those conversations are the secrets that I keep, though it makes no sense to me…”_

“Hey, you ever wonder where the word ‘goat’ came from?” Liam asks, turning onto his side with no small amount of effort and hugging a couch pillow to his chest as if it were a stuffed animal.  “It’s such a weird word, like “go” and “at,” but they make different sounds when they’re together, you know?  English is weird.”

“Not really.  But you know what, Li? We’re not all that great.”  Louis stops spinning and sways in place for a moment before stumbling over to the window, holding on to the curtains for support as he stares out at the city lights.  Louis tries so hard, so very hard, to be the peppy, happy member of the band, but sometimes he can’t keep up the charade.  Sometimes, he has to act his age.

“Whaddya mean?” Liam frowns, tearing his eyes away from the way the moonlight skims across Louis’ trembling lips long enough to realize that something is very, very wrong.  “Hey, you alright there, Lou?”

“Us.  The lads.  One Direction,” Louis clarifies quietly.  He presses his forehead against the glass and exhales, tracing the outline of a heart in the fog there with a delicate fingertip.  “We’re not all that great.  Everyone says we are, but…”  He sighs, wipes the doodle off the window, and sinks to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest.  “We’re not.”

“Louis…” Liam begins as he pushes himself off the couch and starts to stagger his way to the curtains, but Louis cuts him off.

“Fuck you,” Louis says. His voice trembles as his eyes fill with tears.  “Don’t say we are, because we’re not.  We’re not the stars we think we are.”

“Shhh, I know.”  Liam sits down quietly behind Louis and pulls him backward into a hug.  “I know.”  He presses a soft kiss to Louis’ temple and whispers, “I never said we are.”

“And we won’t be around forever.  This…us…we won’t last forever,” Louis sniffs, swiping at the tears that cling to his eyelashes.  “We’ll be gone soon, and they’ll all forget us.  And all the things we’ve done and all the sights we’ve seen and all the records we’ve broken and  _everything_ …none of it’ll matter.”

“Forever is an awfully long time to think about, Lou.”  Liam shuts his eyes and inhales the smell of sunshine and laughter and fresh-cut grass that is so uniquely Louis.  He wishes he could find a way to carry Louis around in his heart and hide him away from the world, just for a little while; just until Louis can wear his smile again without empty eyes.  To take care of Lou – that’s all Liam’s ever really wanted.  “But I won’t forget you; no matter what happens, not even if I die.  I’ll never forget you. I promise.”

Louis’ lower lip trembles once, twice, three times, as he listens to Liam, but there’s no withholding the flood of tears that breaks loose at Liam’s words. And as he sobs uncontrollably into Liam’s shoulder while Liam makes those ridiculous  _shh_ noises he’s so fond of (which is okay because sometimes Louis needs someone to  _shh_  him a little bit), Louis realizes that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if everyone forgot him, as long as Liam is there at the end.

Finally, after what feels like an hour, a day, a lifetime, Louis sighs and tips his head back to rest on Liam’s shoulder, positioning Liam’s arms a little more snugly around himself.  “Thanks, Li.  Dunno what I’d do without you.”

And Liam wants so badly to tell Louis something…anything… _everything_.  He wants Louis to know how beautiful Liam thinks he is right when he wakes up, when his hair is still messy and his pants are on backwards and he’s only got one sock on.  Liam needs to explain how badly he wants to kiss Louis every second of every minute of every day, on the days where Louis is sick and the days when he’s got bad breath because he forgot to brush his teeth (but that’s only because Liam forgot to remind him) and the days where they eat nothing but cold leftovers.  He has to tell Louis how cute he thinks his freckles are, how soft his hair looks and how badly Liam wants to run his fingers through it, how ridiculous it is that Louis shrieks every time Liam grabs his waist from behind, how weird it is that Louis insists on having a blue toothbrush instead of a green one, and how badly he wants to be the first person Louis talks to after he wakes up and the last thing Louis sees before he goes to bed.

But Liam figures that Harry’s probably already said all those things to Louis.  All those things and more, because that’s what any sane person would do if they had the chance to date someone as incredible as Louis.  So Liam just tightens his arms, kisses the back of Louis’ neck, and whispers, “Always.”

*********

_“Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking prick all the time, you’d understand what I’m trying to tell you!”_

_“_ Me _?_ I’m _the prick?  You locked me out of the flat for_ two days _, Louis!”_

_“La-la-la-la, I can’t hear you!”_

“Loud, innit?” Zayn remarks, glancing over his shoulder toward the wall that separates Liam’s room from Harry’s.  “Jesus. Dunno how you can sleep with that goin’ on next door.”

“Just wait until Lou starts throwing things,” Liam grimaces as he steps back into the room from the tiny kitchenette that houses a much-coveted mini-fridge, tossing Zayn and Niall each a beer before flicking the light switch off.  “He’s going to owe this place a fortune.”

_“Oh, real mature, Louis.  Let me know when you decide to grow up.”_

_“_ Me _, grow up?  You’re the baby, here, Styles – you can’t be on your own for five fucking seconds without thinking I’m cheating on you!”_

_“Well maybe if you’d stop flirting with Liam all the time, I wouldn’t have to!”_

_“Fucking hell, what does it matter?  He’s just a friend and nothing’s ever going to…you know what, no, fuck you.  I don’t have to explain myself to you!”_

_“Louis!  Louis, get back here!”_

The illumination from the television screen bleeds the color from Liam’s face and hair as he walks toward the couch, and suddenly it isn’t very difficult for Zayn to imagine what Liam will look like as an old man.   _Oh, Liam.  Who broke you?_

“How long d’you reckon they’ll go on for?” Niall asks off-handedly, grabbing a fistful of popcorn from the bowl in Zayn’s lap and failing to eat without spilling everywhere.  Niall tries to play it cool when his friends are around, but deep down he is terribly afraid of fights like these.  He just wants everybody to get along – is that too much to ask?  Can’t they all just laugh and eat food and be happy together?

“Dunno; could be a couple minutes, or…” Liam starts to answer, but he is cut off by the sound of his door being shoved open with a  _bang._

Louis stands alone in the doorway to Liam’s room as three pairs of eyes stare at him in shock. His chest is heaving and his eyes are burning with some feeling Liam can’t identify as Louis’ bright gaze locks with Liam’s befuddled one.  A moment passes, and Liam feels as if he’s at sea as he falls deeper and deeper into the maelstrom of emotion that rages within Louis’ eyes.  Liam thinks it is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

There’s a sudden shift in the air between them that sends a shiver down Liam’s spine, and Louis begins to walk forward until he’s interrupted by Zayn.

“The fuck was that, Louis?” Zayn twists around in his seat to glare at Louis.  He hates it when people fight, but overreactions piss him off like nothing else.  “Seriously, what the fuck are you thinking?”

Louis opens his mouth to shout back something which Liam is sure wouldn’t be very complimentary, so Liam asks hastily, “Ni, Zayn, could you guys give us a minute?  I need to talk to Louis.  Alone.”

“Sure,” Niall replies quickly, catching on to the tension in the room a little late but willing to help all the same.  He grabs Zayn’s arm and the bowl of popcorn, taking both with him as he stands.  “C’mon, man, it’s time t’ go.  Stay out of trouble,” he adds as an afterthought with a glance at Louis which he means to come off as more intimidating than it actually is.  Niall thinks that maybe he should ask Zayn to help him with the whole broody stare thing for situations like these.  He glances sideways and winces - maybe when Zayn’s in a better mood.

“Whatever,” Zayn growls as he snatches his beer off the table and takes a swig before striding out of the room; as much as he hates drama, Zayn never can resist a good exit.  Niall shrugs apologetically before following him, nicking the drink that was meant for Liam on the way out.

Liam sighs as he watches his friends walk away.   _Damn it_.  Now he’ll have to fix things with Zayn, on top of everything else. He shuffles around the couch and sinks down onto it, his face in his hands and his heart six feet under.

It’s not long before he feels the tentative touch of Louis’ fingers on his back.  Couch springs creak under the additional weight as Louis sits next to Liam, wrapping one arm around Liam’s shoulders and shaking him a little.  “What’s wrong?”

“Thought you were mad?” Liam tenses as Louis’ arm snakes around his shoulders but decides not to comment.

“Nah, I can’t be mad when I’m around you,” Louis says with a half-smile that’s this side of apologetic.  “You’re good for me like that.  Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s just…everything’s coming apart, Lou,” Liam mumbles into his palms.  He feels like a child, but he doesn’t care.  “S’all messed up.”

“What is?” Louis asks softly, carding his fingers lazily through the short brown hair that he convinced Liam to grow back after the head-shaving disaster.  He likes having something to pet and to hold on to.  “Tell me.”

Liam’s eyelids slip shut and he hums incoherently as he loses himself in the rhythm of Louis’ hands and his own heartbeat for a moment.  He knows that this isn’t real and that in a second he’ll open his eyes and Louis will still be very much taken and very much Harry’s, but is it so wrong for Liam to just  _want_?

“Liam.” The couch springs protest loudly as Louis shifts so that his lips brush against Liam’s earlobe. “Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me what I can do to make you feel good again.  I want you to feel good.”

“That’s not fair,” Liam whispers miserably through his fingers.  His skin tastes salty.  “You don’t get to say things like that. Not to me.  Not anymore.  It’s not  _fair_  – you picked  _Harry…_ ”

“Shhh, it’s alright,” Louis murmurs as he pries Liam’s hands away from his face, waiting for Liam to open his watery eyes before kissing each of Liam’s upturned palms.  “Forget about him, just for tonight.  Can you do that for me?”  Liam nods slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Louis’.  “That’s my boy,” Louis smiles, and Liam’s heart aches.  Louis’ boy… “Now, tell me what you want.”

And maybe it’s got something to do with the way Louis licked his lips after kissing Liam’s skin.  Maybe it’s the way Liam can feel Louis’ fingers trembling against his wrists.  Maybe it’s the rapid rise and fall of Louis’ chest, or the hot breath that tickles Liam’s neck.  Maybe it’s all of these things, or one, or none, but for what feels like the first time in his life, Liam tells the truth.

“You.”

Louis inhales sharply.  His fingers tighten around Liam’s wrist; he thinks they might leave bruises.  “Liam…”

“It’s true,” Liam whispers roughly, raising his gaze up to Louis’ as he summarizes everything he’s ever felt since becoming a member of the band in five simple words.  “It’s always been you, Lou.”

“What about Danielle?” Louis asks with a hesitance belied by the flames flickering behind his blue eyes.  He shifts his weight to the chorus of creaking couch springs and tucks one knee beneath himself so that he’s facing Liam properly now.  “I thought you loved her.”

“So did I,” Liam grimaces.  He doesn’t like to remember all the faked smiles, broken promises, and whispered arguments in dark corners that he’s come to associate with his ex-girlfriend.  “I guess I did love her a little bit, for a little while.  But it didn’t last.  She wasn’t right for me.”  Liam’s eyes trace over Louis’ features as if memorizing them for the billionth time and one side of his mouth quirks upward into a half-smile.  “She wasn’t you.”

“Oh, Liam,” Louis sighs after a moment, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Liam’s without breaking eye contact.  “We’re going to make Niall very unhappy.”

“Why?” Liam’s heart races as he raises his fingers to stroke Louis’ cheek.

“Because,” Louis states solemnly, although his attempt at seriousness is betrayed by a grin that breaks across his face like a summer sunrise, “we’re going to get in trouble now.”

Liam’s fingers pause just beside Louis’ smile.  “How much trouble?” he asks warily.  There’s a spark in Louis’ eye that is doing strange, fluttery things to Liam’s stomach.  He thinks he likes it.

“Let’s find out.”

And before Liam’s mind can catch up with what’s happening, before he can even breathe, Louis leans forward and brushes his grinning lips against Liam’s in a butterfly kiss so soft and sweet that Liam can’t stop the answering smile that stretches across his face as he kisses Louis back. 

Louis’ fingers are still clamped around Liam’s wrists and his thumbs rub small circles into the skin there as he kisses Liam again, and again, and again, each time more quickly and more roughly than the last.  There’s a desperately bittersweet edge to the way their mouths collide and Liam’s lips start to hurt from the pressure; he thinks it is the best sort of pain he’s ever felt.  And even though his head is spinning and his pulse is racing so quickly it’s actually a little terrifying, Liam still manages to find the breath to moan as Louis bites down on his lower lip before licking his way into Liam’s mouth.

Their tongues start moving together in a rhythm so slow and sweet and hopelessly addictive that Liam can’t tell left from up or right from down.  All he knows is what he can feel, and all he can feel is Louis.  But it’s alright if nothing makes sense right now, Liam decides as he reaches up to cradle Louis’ face in his hands, because he and Lou have never been interested in making sense, anyway.  They are kisses on noses and laughter that refuses to be ignored and secret handshakes on Tuesdays and code names on Fridays and a friendship that feels like summertime and smells like fresh-cut grass beneath blue skies, and Liam wouldn’t have it any other way.

Louis groans as Liam’s lips begin travel down his neck, and he tilts his head back to give Liam better access to the smooth, tanned skin there.  One of Liam’s hands leaves Louis’ face to grip a surprisingly bony hip, and the other slides down to hold Louis’ neck in place as Liam nips at the skin at the base of Louis’ throat.

“Jesus,” Louis gasps, releasing Liam’s wrist in favor of entwining his fingers in Liam’s hair to hold the other boy in place.  “Do that again.” 

Liam glances up with a dark smile to find a desperate-looking, half-wrecked Louis staring back at him with a heaving chest and black pupils blown wide with lust.  He likes what he sees.  Carefully, Liam lowers his mouth to Louis’ skin and kisses the pink mark he left with the first bite without breaking eye contact.  Louis whimpers.  Liam grins.  He opens his mouth and lets his tongue skim across the abused flesh so lightly that Louis’ eyes roll back into his head and his fingers clench in Liam’s hair before he finally takes mercy upon the blue-eyed boy and nips at the skin again, harder this time.

“Oh,  _Harry,_ ” Louis moans.

Liam freezes before he can kiss Louis again.  There’s a dagger in his back, but it doesn’t hurt as badly as Liam would have thought.  Metal can’t hurt stone.

Louis’ breath skirts across Liam’s cold skin as he opens and closes his mouth several times.  There’s a sudden absence of heat in the space where Louis’ body used to be, and Liam is confused for a moment until he realizes that Louis has moved away from him.  Good.  An irritating buzzing sound fills Liam’s ears, a series of noises without meaning that doesn’t make sense until he sees Louis’ lips moving.  He tries to concentrate on what Louis is saying, but he only hears bits and pieces. 

It doesn’t make him feel better.

“ _Liam…not what I meant to say…Harry…still my boyfriend…confused…sorry…so sorry…”_

“Stop.” Liam’s voice sounds cold and distant to his own hears.  Perfect.  “Just stop, Louis.”

“But…Li…”

“ _Stop_.” 

Louis’ eyes are watery as he closes his mouth and swallows his apologies.  The sight of Louis’ glittering, unshed tears is very nearly Liam’s undoing, but before either of them can say another word Harry bursts into the room with a frantic, “Liam, have you seen Louis?  I can’t – oh, hullo, Lou.”

“Hey, Haz,” Louis croaks, wiping his eyes with the back of a hand before offering Harry a shaky smile.  “Liam and I were just…”

“Talking,” Liam says stiffly, pushing himself up from the couch and stepping away from Louis.  He can’t be near Louis right now.  Or ever.  “We were talking.  He’s not mad at you anymore.  I think I’m going to bed now.  Night.”

“G’night,” Harry calls after him as his forehead puckers in the ghost of a frown.  He’s concerned about the emptiness he saw in Liam’s eyes but not concerned enough to actually do anything about it, because this is Liam. Liam will be fine.  Liam is always fine; he’s Liam.  He probably just lost his favorite pair of socks again, or something.

“Night, Li.” 

Louis’ broken whisper twists the knife in Liam’s back and begs Liam to turn around for one last apology, one last  _anything Liam just look at me, please_  but Liam squares his shoulders and keeps walking.  He’s never been through hell quite like this before, but he’s got enough self-respect to know he can’t look back.  Not even for Louis.

And so, for the second time in as many weeks, Liam feels his heart shatter at the  _click_  of a bedroom door.

**********

Liam is roused the next morning by the sound of his phone vibrating on the nightstand next to his bed.  He cracks his eyes open to find that the sun is glaring at him from a funny point in the sky – too west to be morning.  He must’ve slept longer than he’d meant to.   _Like a stone.  Ha ha._

He rolls over onto his stomach, checks the screen of his phone, and buries his head into the pillows of his bed with a loud groan.  Forty text messages.   _Forty_.  Dread coalesces into anxiety the longer Liam thinks about it; he knows he’s going to get an earful once he finally decides to get up and let everyone know he’s not dead or passed out in a ditch somewhere.  Lovely.

The texts are Zayn’s mostly, although there’s some from Niall, and a few from various people on their management team. Two from Harry tell him to get his lazy arse out of bed.  And one from Lou. 

Liam holds his breath as he opens the only one that matters.

_Louis:  We both know last nite was a mistake.. Can we just forget it happened ? :)_

The phone slips between Liam’s fingers and falls to the floor with a loud  _crack_.  He thinks he should probably get up and make sure it isn’t broken (because that really would be just his luck at this point), but that sounds like effort.  Liam’s starting to hate effort.

He sinks back into his pillows with a sigh as he pulls one over his eyes to block out the sunlight.  Maybe if he sleeps long enough, everything won’t hurt quite so much.

Maybe if he sleeps forever, nothing will hurt at all.

~

_Thud thud thud._

“Liam, you in there? I swear to God, I’ll break your fucking nose if you’re just messing with me – Liam!”  Zayn’s angry voice drills a hole into Liam’s skull and rouses him from a dream about the X-Factor days; those were happy times.  Liam wishes he could find a time machine to take him back to relive those days spent half in fear of being kicked off the show and half in utter ecstasy at living the dream.  His dream.  Those were the good days.  That’s where Liam wants to stay.

_Thud thud thud._

“If you don’t open this damn door, I’ll nick the key to your room off Paul and kick your ass when I get in there!” Zayn threatens darkly.  “Open the fucking door, Li!”  Liam sighs.  He can’t decide if Zayn’s being serious or not, but it’s best not to risk it.

“G’way,” Liam groans, throwing his pillow at the bedroom door.   _Damn it, Zayn probably couldn’t hear that_.  “Leave me alone!” Liam shouts.   _There, that should do it._

“Not ‘til you let me in, you twat!” Zayn yells back.  Liam can imagine the way Zayn’s eyes must be flashing as he glares at Liam’s door, arms crossed and toes tapping the floor like a cartoon character, and he giggles.  He knows it’s not the right response to the situation, but who cares; it’s been ages since he’s laughed, and angry Zayn is adorable.  He gets mad like an irritated kitten that doesn’t know it’s been declawed.

“Fine,” Liam calls, the word half-strangled as he tries to find his serious face.  “Coming.”  But instead of calming down, Liam pictures Zayn as an actual declawed cat and can’t hold back his guffaws any longer because it’s a damn funny mental image now that he’s thinking about it.

“It’s about ti – what’s so funny?” Zayn frowns as Liam finally succeeds in staggering over to open the door.  He shoves his way past a slap-happy Liam into the hotel room, scanning the area for some clue as to what happened after he and Niall left last night.

“Nothing,” Liam wheezes, gasping for air as he follows Zayn to the well-used couch and drops down right next to him. “Stupid thought.”  Liam makes sure their thighs and arms are touching, because Zayn likes his personal space just like Liam likes his sleep: uninterrupted.

“Aren’t they always?”

An awkward moment passes where Zayn fidgets, wishing he could take back the dig but not knowing what to say, and Liam sobers up; it’s difficult to finds things to laugh about now that he’s seated on the couch from which he caught a glimpse of heaven.  And suddenly nothing’s funny at all, because Liam rolls his shoulders and discovers that the knife still pierces his back.  He has time to wonder if it’ll ever be taken out before Zayn breaks the quiet spell.

“So,” Zayn says, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and glancing sideways at Liam.  “You’re not dead.  That’s…that’s good.  Better than, you know, being dead.”

“Nope, not dead,” Liam mutters, biting his thumb nail.  It’s a bad habit he thought he’d broken himself of when he was a kid, but right now he can’t bring himself to care enough to stop.  “Not yet, at least.”

Zayn frowns, but he lets the comment slide.  Liam’s too smart to mean what Zayn thinks he means; he’s Liam.  “So you’re alright, then?”

“I’m fine.” Liam offers Zayn a tight smile and picks the television remote up off the coffee table, scrolling aimlessly through the channels.  Lying is always easier when you don’t have to look at the other person.  “I just needed to catch up on some sleep; that’s all.” 

Because Liam understands what Zayn’s trying to do right now, and he appreciates it – really, he does.  Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he knows that he’s lucky to have a friend like Zayn.  And it’s true that there’s something to be said for the kind of friendship he and Zayn have, where they can be equal parts idiots and equal parts brothers and still have room enough in their hearts left over to care about keeping up silly traditions like Friday Night Movie Nights in Liam’s room and Leftover Pizza Tuesdays in Zayn’s room and their Comic Book Sketch Extravaganzas on long flights from country to country (which Zayn always wins but they pretend Liam has a chance anyway).

But Liam also knows that Zayn can’t understand what he’s going through right now because Zayn is perfect and leads a perfect existence and has a perfect face and perfect hair and a perfect voice and a perfect girlfriend and even though Liam loves him for it, Zayn’s perfection can get a bit annoying. 

Then again, Liam would be lying if he didn’t admit that sometimes, he’s jealous of his friend.  Sometimes, Liam wants to be Zayn.  Sometimes, Liam wants to climb inside Zayn’s skin and mess him up.  And sometimes, Liam wants to hide a piece of himself away from the brilliance of Zayn’s perfection and cling to it like a greedy little child in a dark place that is entirely his own, because Liam isn’t perfect like his friends.  He knows he never will be.

Maybe that’s why Louis chose Harry.

“You’re lying.”  Zayn glares at Liam, twisting in his seat to examine Liam’s smooth, hollow features.  “Something happened.”

“It’s nothing,” Liam starts to say, but Zayn gives him a look that asks Liam just how dumb he thinks Zayn is if he’s expecting Zayn to believe this bullshit, so Liam switches tactics.  “I just…erm…I texted Dani last night…and it didn’t go over so well. She hates me,” he adds quietly.  He wishes his last sentence was part of the lie.

“Yeah?”  Zayn looks doubtful as he crosses his arms.  “And why’d you do that?  Thought you were the one who broke it off.”

“Well, yeah…but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to her anymore.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zayn sighs. “Now, just listen to me for a sec, alright?”  He bumps his shoulder against Liam’s and waits for Liam to shut the t.v. off before starting.  “You can’t do this to yourself anymore, mate; you can’t shut yourself away every time something bad happens.  It’s not healthy, and you can’t…you just…look, what I’m trying to say is…fuck.”  Zayn exhales and drops his gaze from Liam’s face to glare at his hands for a moment.  He needs to get this right; he needs his Liam back. 

“What I’m trying to say,” he murmurs softly, raising his eyes back up to Liam’s, “is that life is like that stupid fucking rollercoaster the fans go on about all the time, and they’re right.  Life is tough. It’s going to hurt.  You’re going to do things you don’t want to do, and you’ll hate yourself for doing some of them.  There’s going to be ups and downs and twists and turns you never saw coming, but that’s alright.  There’s going to be times you’re on top of the world and times you don’t think you’ll make it and times you want to scream at everything to just shut up for a minute, and that’s alright, too. Nobody’s got a perfect life - it’s part of the deal.  We’ve each got something – some mistake or bad decision or whatever – that we’re carrying along with us; the important part is that we carry on.” 

A moment passes as Liam sniffs loudly, wondering why the world’s gone blurry until Zayn reaches up to brush a tear off his cheek.  Liam catches Zayn’s hand before he can pull it away and holds it in place. 

 _Carry on_. 

There’s a silent clatter as the knife slips out of Liam’s back and drops to the floor.  It won’t touch him again.

“Can you promise me something?”  Zayn asks softly as his eyes search Liam’s broken expression.  Liam nods.  His throat is so tight he can barely breathe.  “Stop torturing yourself.  Let whoever it is that’s really bothering you go, ‘cause if they’re making you miserable then they don’t deserve you.  You’re Liam, and you’re – damn it, you’re  _my_  Liam, and you don’t have to go through this alone.  I’m your best friend; I’ll always be here for you.”  There are tears sparkling in two pairs of eyes as Zayn pulls Liam’s head forward and presses his lips against Liam’s forehead.

And suddenly, for the first time in weeks, Liam can breathe.

_Carry on._

“Feeling better?” Liam nods and squeezes Zayn’s hand.  He doesn’t trust himself to speak just yet.  “Good.”  Zayn leans back and caresses Liam’s face with the rough pads of his thumbs before standing.  “I’ll go let management and the boys know you’ve got a cold right now, but you think you’ll be able to do shit tomorrow.”

“But…I don’t…I’m not sick?” Liam croaks, wiping his tears away with the back of one hand as he rises.  Zayn raises an eyebrow and waits for Liam to catch on.  “Oh… _oh,_  okay.  Thanks, Zayn.  You’re a great friend.” Liam’s voice wavers and cracks as he grabs Zayn and pulls him in for a quick, tight hug.  “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Something worthwhile, probably,” Zayn laughs as Liam releases him.  Liam’s never noticed it before, but Zayn’s smile is quite nice when it’s sincere.  Quite nice.  Zayn claps Liam on one shoulder before heading for the door.  “Text me later so I know you’ve quit moping.”

“Okay, I will; see you tomorrow, then.  Sorry about all,” Liam mumbles thickly as he gestures around the room, “this.”

“Anytime.”  A wicked smirk spreads across Zayn’s features like wildfire as he leans against the doorway, puts on his sunglasses, and poses.  “Laters, baby.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Liam chuckles as he brushes away the last few tears that cling to his eyelashes.  “I never should’ve told you I read that.”

Zayn just tips his sunglasses down and winks at Liam before swaggering down the hall. 

And as the door clicks shut behind the Bradford boy, Liam smiles a small, hesitant smile, just for himself.  He’ll never let that sound break him again.

_Carry on._

**********

“Christ, Liam,” Niall splutters, leaning back and fanning the air toward the window of their tour bus as Liam coughs up _another_  lungful of smoke in his face, “I thought you were jokin’.  You’ve really never done this before, have you?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Liam coughs, flushing a deep shade of red and wondering if it’s too late to go start a Twitcam instead. He doesn’t normally tag along with Niall and Zayn for this, their most sacred post-concert tradition and one they’d faithfully kept up since the start of Up All Night tour, but one glance back at Harry and Louis locked in a deep conversation as they all left the stage had him scrambling to catch up with the other two.  It’s been a month since his talk with Zayn and Liam’s working on getting over Lou – really, he is – but if he hears their dirty whispers one more time or finds a condom in their bunks again, he’ll either scream or punch Harry in his stupid face.  One or the other.

Liam flicks the lighter on and off a few times, lost in thought, as he works up the courage to give it another go until Zayn intercedes with a quiet, “Here, let me.”  He leans forward and gently takes the pipe and lighter from Liam’s sweaty hands, their fingers tangling together as Liam nearly drops them anyway, and before Liam can figure out what’s going on he hears the  _click_  of the lighter.  “Open.”  Suddenly, Zayn’s hand is holding his chin steady and he’s pushing his face forward into Liam’s.  “Breathe.”

Liam obeys with round eyes and a shiver ripples down his spine as Zayn leans forward a little more to blow a soft, steady stream of hot smoke into his mouth.  Their lips brush together lightly as the arm Zayn’s using to support himself to lean over the table wobbles the smallest bit, and a moan catches in his throat as Liam inhales greedily; he’s not sure if it’s just his imagination, but he’s pretty sure the smoke tastes sweeter coming from Zayn.

Zayn’s hand slides from holding Liam’s chin in place to covering his mouth as soon as he’s done.  “Shhh,” Zayn murmurs as Liam whines in protest, grinning a little at Liam’s confusion.  “Just wait – it takes a minute.” 

Liam groans as he tries to keep the fluttering tendrils of panic at bay. He can’t breathe because Zayn’s hand is covering his nose, too, and there’s smoke settling into his lungs with this heavy sort of  _weight_  he’s never felt before; it’s like a strange, thick blanket inside his chest and all he wants to do is cough it up and out.  Or, you know, just fucking  _breathe_. 

Instead, he settles for licking Zayn’s palm.

“Agh!” Zayn squawks, wiping his hand on Liam’s shirt as Liam exhales with a grin.  “What are you, five?”

“Why - you into that?”

“Jesus, stop flirting and pass that shit over here sometime tonight, yeah?” Niall tries to glare but he’s already had a hit or two and his facial muscles don’t feel like listening to him right now.  Zayn makes a face and hands him the pipe as carefully as he can manage, and Niall’s head spins as he clicks his own lighter and inhales deep and slow.  It doesn’t take long for the buzzing to start beneath his skin.

“Is it working?” Liam asks as he watches the way Niall’s lips press against the colored glass.  “’Cause I don’t think it is.  I still feel like a Liam, and being a Liam is so…Liam.  Wait,” Liam’s eyes widen and he shoots Zayn a panicked glance, “maybe a Liam can’t get high.  Can that happen?”

“Don’t worry, mate,” Zayn chuckles, stretching his arms above his head so that his shirt rides up a bit. “It’s workin’.”

“But what if – “

“Hey,” Niall says loudly, pushing the pipe back to Zayn as he puffs out a cloud of smoke, “we got any food?”

“Yeah, in the cabinet; get it yourself this time.  I haven’t forgotten what happened with the nachos,” Zayn grimaces.  He nods toward the kitchen area of the bus behind him and waits for Niall to slide off the other end of the bench and amble into the kitchen area of the bus before toking another round and pulling Liam forward by the collar of his shirt.  “Open.”

He doesn’t have to tell Liam twice.

“Do you know where the – oh, for fuck’s sake!” Niall complains as he sticks his head out from behind an open pantry door. “Is this gonna be a thing, then?  ‘Liam can’t get high on his own, so let’s make out with him instead?’”

Zayn breaks away reluctantly and slips a hand over Liam’s mouth before twisting in his seat.  He fixes Niall with as steady a gaze as his red-rimmed eyes can manage.  “Why?  You got a problem with it?”

“Nah, it’d just be hotter if you were two chicks,” Niall grumbles, his face hot as he returns to scouring the cabinets for food. “’Sides, you never wanna shotgun with  _me_.”

“Never say never.” Zayn waggles his eyebrows suggestively and smacks Niall’s ass before turning back around.  He lets his thumb drag a bit on Liam’s lower lip as he removes his hand, loving the way Liam’s pupils dilate at the touch.  “How’re you feelin’, Li?”

“Good?” Liam answers, although he’s a bit too dizzy from the momentary oxygen deprivation to be sure.  His eyes are hot and scratchy, there’s a bitterly sweet taste on the back of his tongue, and there’s a tickling sensation just beneath the surface of his skin that makes Liam want to…he wants to… “God, I need a snog.  Where’s my phone?”  He pats his pockets and frowns when he discovers that they’re empty.  “Can’t call Dani without my phone.”

“Can’t call Dani,” Niall agrees around a mouthful of food as he carries a plate loaded down with junk food back to the table and slides onto the couch next to Liam.  “Part o’ th’ rules.”

“Rules?”

“Yeah, rules,” Zayn shrugs, taking a hit before finishing his explanation.  “Can’t have people findin’ out an’ messin’ with this, can we?  Not with half the fans bein’ twelve.”

Liam frowns.  He hadn’t thought of it that way and, for neither the first time nor the last, he regrets being in a bloody boy band.  And speaking of things he hadn’t thought of… “Does Paul know about this?”

“Oh, yeah, ‘course he does; even caught us once,” Zayn reminisces, smirking at Niall as the blonde groans and slaps a hand over his face.  “That was fun.  Niall thought he wouldn’t notice us if we just sat real still-like and didn’t make eye contact.”

“Did it work?” Liam interrupts.  He feels like it’s a really stupid question to ask but right now he feels like he’d disappear too if he sat still for too long so hey, maybe there’s some merit in the idea.

“For about five seconds,” Zayn snorts.  “Niall’s a giggler, in case you haven’t noticed.  But anyway, yeah, as long as we’re down here and phones are away, we’re good.”

“Shut it, Malik – at least I’m not a horny bastard like you.”  Zayn winks at Niall and Niall’s not sure why it’s so distracting (because really, Zayn winks at him all the time in front of the cameras; there’s no reason for his heart to be doing that flippy thing it’s doing right now just because they’re mostly alone) but he thinks he should get off this line of thought just to be safe.  “No worries, though, Li; Paul’s a lad…hey, pass that o’er here,” Niall says, swapping the food plate with Zayn for the pipe.  He waits until Zayn takes a bite of a Ding Dong before blowing the smoke in his face and laughs as Zayn nearly chokes. “That’s for last time.”

“Last time?” Liam asks, stretching his arms out and draping them along the back of the couch.  His arms and legs are loose, there’s food on the table, and he’s feeling good now – surprisingly good.  It’s hard to care about silly things like whether Louis and Harry are fucking in their hotel room when he’s stoned.

“Yeah,” Niall snickers, ducking as Zayn reaches across Liam to smack Niall in the back of the head.  “He read me some fan story about –”

“Fanfiction,” Liam corrects automatically.  Oh well; once a Liam, always a Liam.  “It’s called fanfiction.”

“Whatever.” Niall rolls his eyes.  “Point is, he read somethin’ ‘bout me an’ Demi gettin’ it on an’ I nearly choked on a chip.”

“You read that stuff?” Liam asks curiously as Zayn takes a swig of water from the bottle on the counter behind him.  “Why?”

Zayn shrugs as he slides back into place.  “Bored.  Horny.  Bored.  Lou left his laptop open.  Take your pick.”

“You got Perrie for that second one,” Niall huffs, shoving an entire cupcake into his mouth.  “You don’ ge’ t’ talk.”

“Yeah, well,” Zayn says, glancing around the bus as if hoping she’d magically appear, “she’s not here, is she?”

Niall shrugs as he passes the pipe back to Zayn and watches as he does another round with Liam.  He’s not sure why, but Niall feels a frown tug his eyebrows together as Zayn lingers longer at Liam’s lips than strictly necessary.

“You alrigh’ there, Ni?”  Zayn asks as he refills the bowl with deft fingers and flicks Liam’s lighter once, twice, three times until it catches.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“C’mere, then; your turn,” Zayn grins, taking a long drag before reaching a hand across Liam and placing it on the back of Niall’s neck.  Niall barely has time to open his mouth before he’s tugged forward and Zayn’s lips are crushing his. 

The familiar taste of the warm smoke curls in tendrils across Niall’s tongue as Zayn exhales, long and slow, and he can’t help but gasp as Zayn’s fingers tangle themselves in the short hairs at the base of his neck.  Zayn’s lips are chapped in a good way, and Niall moans as they start to move with his in a series of kisses that are more like little nips than anything, full of teeth and pressure and tugs on hair.  He’s not sure what’s going on right now, but Zayn’s hands have started exploring and this is the most Niall’s gotten in weeks so he sure as hell isn’t going to question it.

“’M still here, y’know,” Liam groans as he cracks an eye open and pulls his head back up to find Niall and Zayn going at it in his lap.  “Ugh, c’mon, guys.”

“Sorry.”  Niall flushes as he leans back.  His head is spinning and there’s a strange, shivery feeling in the pit of his stomach. That was definitely a first.

“It’s fine,” Liam yawns, rubbing his eyes with a fist as he grabs a snack from Niall’s plate before Niall can protest, and suddenly he’s so hungry that he nearly starts chewing on the plastic wrapper of the Pop Tart in his hand.  “Bloody hell, I’m hungry.”

“Thirsty,” Niall moans.  He adjusts his pants as discreetly as he can, given the circumstances, before pushing himself up and padding over to the fridge to pull three water bottles out of the mini-fridge, tossing one to Liam and Zayn each. “So thirsty.”

“Good,” Zayn murmurs, grinning from ear to ear and kicking his legs up into Niall’s lap after Niall sits back down.  “God, I’m so fuckin’ stoned.  Y’know, I bet we could achieve world peace if we all just shut up and got stoned.”

“And how’re we goin’ t’ do that?” Niall rolls his eyes.  He’s starting to realize he does that a lot around Zayn.

“Mmm, not my problem,” Zayn hums noncommittally, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall behind him. “Get the PM on it, or maybe Obama or somethin’.”

Silence settles over the three as each gets lost in the web of his own thoughts.  Liam stares intently at his hands, wondering how he could’ve gotten dirt under the nails if he’d been inside for the past few days, Zayn contemplates the meaning of life and the invention of pants as he examines the nonexistent patterns in the roof of the bus, and Niall gazes out the window and watches the stars.

“Hey, you guys ever think about how small we are?” Niall asks quietly as his blue eyes scan the sky for a star he’d named with his dad a long time ago when the night was full of terrors and Niall needed something to believe in.  “Like…seriously. We’re tiny.  Like…really tiny.”

“Yeah,” Zayn drawls, running a hand through his hair.  “But we’re big, too.  One Direction an’ all that.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Liam chimes in softly.  His warm brown eyes skim over Niall’s features without really seeing him, and Niall gets the distinct impression that Liam’s looking at someone else.  “World’s so big, you know?  But us…we’re all so small.  Like little ants.  And what does it matter if one ant is in love with another ant?  Who’s going to care when the boot comes down?”

“Are you talkin’ about who I think you are?” Zayn asks, pushing himself into a more upright position and pulling his legs off Niall’s lap.  “Or are you just really fuckin’ high?”

“Both?  I think?”

“Wait, who’s he talkin’ about?” Niall frowns.  People always think they can leave him out of secrets.  It sucks to be a Niall.

Zayn opens his mouth to answer but hesitates and glances at Liam.  It’s Liam’s story to tell, not his.

And Liam isn’t sure whether it’s the atmosphere, or the junk food and sugar buzz, or the hurt in Niall’s big blue eyes, or whether it’s just the drug in his system, but something feels right about this – right now, this moment, with these boys who he loves like the brothers he never had.  So, after a deep breath and a silent curse, Liam Payne admits his secret out loud in full for the first time in his life. 

“I’m in love with Louis.”

Niall doesn’t even blink as he takes the news in stride.  “Good for you, mate.  You told him that?”

Liam winces.  “Sort of?  ‘S hard to explain.”

“How?”

“Because,” Liam frowns at the table as he fumbles for the right words.  Thinking is hard, but he wants to make sure Niall and Zayn understand –  _needs_  to make sure they understand.  “Loving Lou is like…it’s like…the sun.”

“Seriously?” Zayn snorts as he stretches his legs out beneath the table and sinks down in his seat. "The sun? That's the best simile you could come up with?" 

“Yeah, yeah it is,” Liam says as color rises in his cheeks.  “Loving him is like needing the sun.  It’s…it’s everything, and it’s everywhere, and even when you think you’ve escaped it you turn around and find out you’ve been running toward it the entire time.  It’s is loud, and annoying, and it leaves its dirty clothes everywhere and steals yours without asking.” Liam smiles as tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes.  “It doesn’t let you ignore it.  Sunlight laughs with you when you tell it a joke and holds you when you tell it your turtles died, and it doesn’t judge you.  It’s passionate and ticklish and painful and obnoxious and silly and warm and  _everything_ …you know?  The sun…sunlight is  _alive_.”  His voice cracks on the last word, and Liam takes a deep, shuddering breath as tears begin to course down his cheeks in small rivulets.  “And I want to be alive, too.”

“Oh, Liam,” Zayn and Niall chorus sadly, exchanging a loaded glance across the table, and Liam hates the pity he can hear dripping from those three syllables. But then all of a sudden they’ve scooted closer and they’re both wrapped around Liam in the most invasive group hug Liam’s ever experienced (which is saying quite a lot, really, since nobody in the band had any sense of boundaries or personal space to begin with), and he can’t quite bring himself to be upset with their sympathy hugs as Niall burrows his head into the crook of Liam’s neck and Zayn tucks himself beneath Liam’s arm into the hollow of his side.

“I’m sorry,” Niall mumbles, nosing at Liam’s birthmark.  He feels an insane urge to kiss it but decides that maybe this isn’t the best time and shelves that impulse for some time down the road.  “Shouldn’t have asked.”

“Me, too,” Zayn says guiltily.  He doesn’t always know when to stop being an asshole, but Liam puts up with him anyway, so he figures he owes it to Liam to not be a complete failure of a friend.  “Sorry for teasin’.”

“’S okay,” Liam sighs, wiping the tears away with a knuckle.  “I’ll be okay.  I can get over it.  Got to carry on,” he squeezes Zayn and offers him a watery smile, “right?”

“Right,” Zayn whispers.  His throat feels too thick and he coughs as he clutches Liam closer.  “But you don’t always have t’ be strong, you know.”

“Yeah,” Niall adds, resting his head on Liam’s shoulder and yawning magnificently.  “It’s okay to be sad sometimes.  ‘S what we’re here for.”

Liam’s heart throbs painfully in his chest and he wants to compare the feeling via some pretentious metaphor to someone chipping away at a rock with a chisel and a hammer but that wouldn’t be right because he isn’t stone – he’s Liam Payne.  He’s flesh and blood and tears and sweat and he has a family and friends and a life that mean more to him than the world and  _he doesn’t want to be a stone anymore_.

He’s alive, and nobody – not even Louis Tomlinson – is going to make him think or want or wish otherwise.

An idea pops into Liam’s head then and it seems like the greatest idea in the world so he doesn’t think twice before he lets a question tumble between his lips.  “Hey, where’s my phone?”

“Hmm?” Niall hums, drowsing off against Liam’s shoulder.  “Rules.  Can’t.”

“I don’t want to text Dani,” Liam says exasperatedly.  He shrugs and Niall mewls in protest as his head bounces against Liam’s shoulder.  “I want to talk to Lou.  I need to say something.”

“Like what?” Zayn raises an eyebrow suspiciously before realizing the effect is probably lost on Liam’s t-shirt, which is all that’s in his line of vision right now other than Niall’s legs.

“Just something.”  Liam’s voice takes on a hard edge that wakes Zayn up a bit.  “I need my phone, Zayn.”

Zayn leans back far enough for his honey-brown eyes to meet Liam’s determined ones for a few seconds before relenting. “Fine.  Phone’s in the drawer with the spoons.”

“Thank you,” Liam replies as his eyes soften.  He gently (as gently as he can, anyway, with so many limbs involved) extricates himself from Zayn and Niall’s hugs, pads over to the drawer, pulls out his phone, and stands there with his tongue between his teeth as he taps out a quick text message. 

Zayn tries to fight his drooping eyelids as he watches Liam fiddle around on his phone, but then Niall cuddles up to him and _damn it_  the blonde is warm enough to be his own personal blanket; it’s not weird if Zayn takes advantage of that just for tonight, right?  After all, he’s pretty fucking tired, and they’ve probably reached this point in their friendship, all things considered.  That’s what he tells himself, at least.  Within moments, Zayn is stretched out next to Niall along the bench, spooning the blonde and draping an arm across Niall’s waist, clutching him closer in a way that he promises himself is totally platonic – he just doesn’t want Niall rolling off the bench, that’s all. 

And so what if he drops a tiny kiss into Niall’s hair when Niall twitches in his sleep and mutters his name?  Zayn thinks that the whole  _if a tree falls in a forest_  argument applies pretty nicely here, so he steals another kiss and a squeeze before following Niall’s example.

Liam looks up from his phone and sighs in relief as Zayn’s eyes close and stay closed for the next minute or so; in Zayn’s world, that was more than enough time to be in a near-catatonic slumber.  Finally.  Liam had thought they would never fall asleep.

As quickly and quietly as he can, Liam slips on a pair of shoes and grabs a couple of jackets to toss over Niall and Zayn as a sort of makeshift blanket, but only after taking a few compromising pictures of his bandmates – after all, what sort of friend would he be if he let this opportunity pass him by?

And then, before someone can wake up and point out that this is a  _really_  bad idea and that he’s still under the influence, Liam steals out of the bus and steps into the darkness beyond.

**********

“Wake up, Liam.”

Liam clenches his eyes more tightly shut and wrinkles his nose as he buries his face into something that feels too solid to be a pillow (but in all honesty, he is so far beyond the point of caring what it is that it’s laughable).  He’s so tired; why can’t people just leave him alone?  All he wants to do is sleep…just sleep… _please_ …

“C’mon, Li, it’s time to get up.”

A groan resonates deep inside Liam’s chest as he knots his fingers in the thin fabric that covers his not-a-pillow.  He feels heavy…so heavy…

“If you’re not up in ten seconds, I’m pouring cold water on you.”

“Fuck off,” Liam growls, tugging the not-a-pillow closer and clutching it to his chest.  “’M sleeping.”

“I can see that.”  Liam’s pillow vibrates as the voice chuckles.   _Wait…_  “You know, whenever I pictured this moment, I’d thought you’d be sleeping  _with_  me, not  _on_  me.”  Adrenaline replaces the blood in his veins as Liam’s eyes shoot open to find a pair of bright baby blues staring back at him.  Fuck.

“Louis,” Liam says uncertainly as he peels his cheek off Louis’ chest and scoots as far away as he can manage without falling off the bed.  A glance around the room tells Liam that he is definitely in Louis’ room, Harry is nowhere in sight, his shirt is MIA, and his pants are cowering in the corner of the room.  Lovely.  “What the fuck happened last night?”

Louis’ eyes widen and he adopts a stricken expression.  “Are you telling me you don’t remember our night of passion?”  He waits until Liam has started to hyperventilate before grinning and shaking his head.  “Kidding; there’s no need to look so terrified, you wanker.  You sent me a text and then you tweeted something so deliciously stupid I had to come and rescue you before the fans could tear you to bits.  You’re welcome, by the way.”  Louis makes a face.  “That blonde bird from management called at least three times to yell at you.  You’re lucky I took your phone away when I found you or you’d have gotten your ass handed to you.”

“Shit,” Liam groans, slumping back into the pillows as he passes a hand over his eyes.  “Where’s the phone?  What did I say?”

“Here.”  Louis rolls sideways and snags it off the nightstand on the other side of the bed before scooting closer to Liam and tossing an arm around his shoulders.  “I don’t know your passcode so I couldn’t delete the tweet but I’m pretty sure management took care of that, and I tried to play it off as best I could…”

Liam’s fingers shake as he takes the phone and types in the four-digit code.   _Damn it, damn it, damn it_.  He’s supposed to be the responsible one, the one who makes sure shit like this  _doesn’t_ happen, not the one who can’t remember what he did last night. 

What appear to be thousands of angry Twitter mentions greet Liam as he opens his inbox, along with multiple frantic texts from Zayn and Niall and a dozen missed calls.   _Christ_. 

“I texted them all from my phone to let them know you were safe,” Louis says quietly.  He lets his arm fall off Liam’s shoulders and tugs his knees up to his chest.  “Told ‘em you ate something a fan gave you and that you’re sleeping it off.”

“Thanks,” Liam mutters distractedly.  He frowns at the tiny illuminated screen as Louis’ name pops up in his inbox and opens the conversation.

~Jun 29, 2013 1:22 AM~

**_Liam:  Cnat do this anymroee Luo_ **

_Louis:  Huh ?_

**_Liam:  Im notth eghost u wnat me tobe_ **

_Louis:  What are u talking about_

**_Liam:  Im not urs an u cnat hav me too itsn ot fiar_ **

_Louis:  Shit Liam , are you drunk right now ??_

**_Liam:  Dnt prtend yuo careee_ **

_Louis:  Im coming to get u, stay on the bus_

**_Liam:  Haahaaa nt on th ebus_ **

_Louis: Well then where are u ??_

**_Liam:  M gona carryon whithout u_ **

_Louis:  WHERE ARE YOU_

**_Liam:  Goaw ay I dnt need u_ **

_Louis: THIS ISNT FUNNY LIAM_

**_Liam: @zaynmalik Ow myarm hutrs y ddint u say tats hrut_ **

**_Liam:  @fans Eveyr1 oustide can FCUK OF LAEVE ME ALONE_ **

_Louis:  Nice tweet genius , im on my way, STAY THERE_

~

“I got a tattoo?” Liam asks, horrified.  “ _Where?”_

“Left bicep - your other left.”

Liam paws frantically at his skin until he twists his arm the right way to see “ _Carry On_ ” scrawled across the inside of his arm in lazy, looping letters.

“Well, shit.”  Liam rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and glances at Louis’ withdrawn expression.  “Hey, you know I didn’t mean any of that, right?”

“Really?”  Louis whips his head around to glare at Liam.  “Because I think that’s exactly what you meant.  Why do you have to get fucked up to tell me what you’re thinking?  That’s not how friendship’s supposed to work, you asshole.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?”  Heat rises to Liam’s cheeks as he scowls right back at Louis.  He’s tired of making excuses; he’s tired of being sorry.  “Am I supposed to tell you I hate the fact that you picked Harry?  Should I let you know that I’m sick of the way you treat me and keep stringing me along?  Because I do, and I am.”

“That’s not – ” Louis starts hotly, but Liam cuts him off.

“Shut up and let me finish: you picked the wrong guy, Louis.  Harry’s not right for you.  He knows it, I know it…shit, the entire  _world_  knows it.”  There’s a lump in Liam’s throat filled with all the words he never thought he’d get the chance to say, and he can barely breathe as they all try to spill out at once.  “You chose wrong, and maybe that’s why you guys keep fucking fighting so much; deep down inside, you know you’re supposed to be with me, and it’s killing you.  And even though you’re with him, you expect me to be here for you, too, but I can’t do that anymore.  I can’t be everything you want me to be, and I can’t tell you everything’s going to be alright because they won’t be, Lou.”  Liam’s voice cracks on the last word.  “I can’t do this anymore.  It hurts too much.”

“We broke up.”

“And – wait, what?”  Liam feels like Louis has pulled a rug out from beneath his feet.

“Me and Harry.”  Louis wipes a tear away from his cheek as he laughs at Liam’s expression.  “We broke up a few weeks ago, before the start of the tour.  We wanted to tell you all but we just sort of…didn’t.”  He shrugs.  “Management said the whole ‘Larry’ thing is good for press, so we just go along with it on camera and onstage, but…you’re right.” 

His eyes lock with Liam’s and he reaches up to brush away the tears Liam hadn’t realized had been rolling down his own cheeks, too.  “I chose wrong, and I’m going to regret that every day for the rest of my life.  Harry and I never made much sense, but you and me?”  Louis smiles and trails his thumb across Liam’s cheekbone.  “We’re the only thing that does make sense in this crazy, fucked up world.  Being with you is easier than breathing, and even when we’re fighting I still feel better than I’ve ever felt with anyone else.  You’re my Li, and I’m your Lou, and even if you say what I think you’re going to say at the end of this, nobody can ever take that away from us.” 

His fingers tremble as they trace a path down Liam’s jawline.  “Look, I know that I’m not nice like you are.  I act really stupid most of the time.  I’m selfish and mean and I never do my laundry and I steal your socks whenever I forget mine.  I’m not strong like you.  I can’t take care of people the way you can.  I can’t save the day the way you do.  But,” Louis leans forward very slowly and cups Liam’s face between his palms very carefully, “there is one thing I can do.  I can be in love with you so badly it hurts…so badly I can’t stand it.  I can need you more than I’ve ever needed anything before, more than I need air or water or  _anything_.  You’re incredible and kind and beautiful – so goddamn beautiful it makes me want to cry, sometimes – and I know you’re too good for me, and that telling you this is going to ruin everything we’ve ever been, and that we’re all dust in the wind or specks of sand drifting through the ocean before we settle at the bottom and forget what it’s like to feel the sun or whatever metaphor is appropriate here, but I’m in love with you.”  Louis sighs.  “I wish I could be more poetic when I tell you this, but I am really fucking in love with you, Liam Payne.  I think I always have been.” 

Louis rests his forehead against Liam’s and kisses the tip of his nose.  “There, I said it.  I love you, Li.  Go ahead and slap me if you need to, I won’t mind.  I’ve been horrible to you – all I’m asking for is a chance to try to make that up to you every day for the rest of forever.  What do you think?”

“I think,” Liam whispers hoarsely through the smile that started sometime shortly after he met Louis for the first time and hadn’t truly faded since then, “that we’re going to make Niall very upset.”

“Niall?” Louis frowns, leaning back.  “What’s he got to do with this?”

“He told us not to get in trouble,” Liam smirks as he reaches up with his own hands to trace meaningless patterns into Louis’ face, “but I’m feeling a bit rebellious right now.”

“I pour my heart out to you and you’re only a  _bit_ rebellious?” Louis looks hurt for all of one second before he pulls Liam forward and presses their lips together in a rough kiss that sets Liam on fire as Louis pushes him back into the pillows. “Deal.”  Louis rolls his body on top of Liam’s and kisses him again.  “How much trouble were you thinking, Payne?”

Liam’s brown eyes sparkle mischievously as he caresses Louis’ face and the piece of his heart he always knew was missing falls into place.

“Let’s find out.”


End file.
